


Wherever I'm With You

by orphan_account



Series: Through The Dark [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't quite believe he gets to have this, to have Cas, but he's going to make everything of it while he can.</p><p>Sequel to <i>Through The Dark</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I'm posting today and there won't be any other works set in this 'verse (sorry!), but basically this is just a little interlude set between chapters 17 and 18, from Dean's point of view. Hope you all like it! :)

The radio plays in the kitchen and Dean hums along to it, feet up on the table as he pointedly ignores every newspaper that litters his home and lets his phone ring off the hook. Fuck everyone and everything right now; Dean is happy for the first time in a _long_ time, and he’s going to ignore everything he can in order to keep it that way.

It’s around one in the afternoon according to the clock on the wall and Dean is considering going out to pick up some food before Cas wakes up. He decides against it when he winces at the memory of the press lining his gate, and knows there is no way he’s getting away with just a baseball cap and some sunglasses for the near future.

Then he brings up the memory of how he’d left Cas this morning, curled around a pillow with his hair even messier than usual and his lips parting around soft snores. He realises that this whole thing is totally worth being under necessary house arrest for the near future, because Cas is sleeping through lunchtime out of damn _exhaustion_ from how hard and fast they’d been doing it last night.

 _That_ particular memory makes his dick twitch in his pyjama bottoms, and he wills it to go away. Well, at least until Cas wakes up.

 _Cas_ , he thinks again, knowing that the mere thought is making him break out in an moronic and happy grin. He never really thought he’d get to have this; Cas in his bed, a future ahead of them that wasn’t laced with lies and hiding. But he’s got it now, he’s got _Cas_ now, and while losing the other stuff hurts – like his dad, and he will talk about that one day with Cas, but right now he’s _happy_ , and he doesn’t want to wreck that – this is more than worth it.

The past seven years have been rough, to say the least. The night he’d left Cas is one of the worst night of his life – up there with the night his mom died, to be honest. Just _thinking_ about what he’d seen in his rear-view mirror as he’d driven away is enough to make his gut wrench and his blood run cold. The sight of Cas – strong, brave, _perfect_ Cas – sinking to the floor, curling in on himself and looking so goddamn small and hopeless that Dean’s eyes had fucking stung. That had hurt more than any words Sam had thrown at him that night, more than his dad being more disappointed in him than Dean thought were possible, almost _hating_ him just for falling in love.

He’d spent the rest of that night tossing and turning in his bed, not sleeping a wink. He heard Cas’ brother Michael at their door asking where Cas was, but before Dean could go down to ask why the hell he still wasn’t home, his dad slammed the door in Michael’s face.

It wasn’t until an hour or so later that he heard a car pulling into the next door’s drive, saw Michael take Cas out of the passenger seat and all but carry him into the house. That sight has haunted him ever since that night, and it was the reason he was going to go over to Cas’ the next day and tell him he was sorry, that they could be together and they could find a way around his dad.

Except when he finally worked up the courage to do it, Cas was packing all of things into his cousin Gabriel’s car and driving off. Dean realised then that he was a fucking selfish asshole who didn’t deserve Cas, and that letting him go was probably the kinder thing to do anyway.

After that he’d gone to college, worked hard and tried to pretend like Harvard wasn’t only an hour away, like it wouldn’t take such a fucking short drive to maybe get him a chance. He never let himself go because Cas deserved _better_ , damn it, and Dean was going to let him have it. Didn’t stop him from noticing when Cas got a job at the Post, though. Didn’t stop him from checking every issue to see if Cas had written any of it, getting a subscription to aid in his unhealthy habit. He’d even started keeping the articles that Cas had written, storing them in the back of his wardrobe like some kind of sick shrine.

No one knows about that, and he intends to keep it that way.

And then – then they’d offered him an article there. Said they’d do anything to have him, but all Dean could selfishly think of was _one more shot_. So he’d said yes and, well –

Basically it ended with Dean coming out on national television, addressing Cas through a fucking _camera_ with the words Cas had said as a sixteen year old to ask if he still had a chance, and then him waiting impatiently with Balthazar in his house while the press were ushered out.

Not fifteen minutes later there was a frantic buzzing from the door, and Dean was too paralysed with fear to get up and open it, so Balthazar had to. He opened the door too, and the only thing Dean was capable of doing was standing up just as Cas burst through the door, looking rumpled and shocked and fucking _beautiful_.

That was pretty much all Dean had time to think before Cas literally _threw_ himself into Dean’s arms and started kissing him, hard and bruising and smiling through it, too. Dean gave back just what he got, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist, lifting him up and laughing breathily into the space between their mouths. They didn’t notice Balthazar sidle off, mostly because the next thing that happened was Dean throwing Cas onto the couch and proceeding to start the marathon sex that was last night.

Well, it  seemed only appropriate to make up for all the shit they went through to get here by having sex on pretty much every surface in Dean’s house.

Actually, they haven’t done it in the kitchen yet, Dean notes as he comes back to the present. He’s going to have to rectify that as soon as Cas upstairs decides to haul his – probably very sore – ass out of bed. The song on the radio switches, starts playing some Indie crap he’s never heard of, but he’s too content in his place to get up and change, so he just leans back and closes his eyes instead.

“Why are you listening to this?”

Dean’s eyes spring back open he sees Cas in the doorway, a pillow crease on his cheek and wearing – holy _shit_ , wearing Dean’s boxers and nothing else.

Dean’s mouth runs dry. “Um,” he starts, still focused on _Cas in his clothes_ , because it’s bringing out something possessive in him. Especially with the way the scant clothing allows Dean to see the hickeys on his neck, around his nipples, on the inside of his thighs. He has to physically shake himself out of his stupor when he notices Cas is still staring at him, one eyebrow raised and the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. “Too lazy to get up and change it. Oh, and speaking of lazy – afternoon, princess.”

“Shut up, Winchester,” Cas replies, rolling his eyes. The smile on his face is fond, and Dean’s heart stutters as he thinks they get to be _this_ again. He’d almost forgotten what happiness felt like, but it all comes rushing back to him whenever Cas smiles. “Also stop staring at me like that. You’re giving me a complex.”

Dean smirks. “Not my fault you looking fucking _hot_ in my boxers, babe,” he says, and loves that he gets to see the blush crawl up Cas’ neck at the compliment.

Cas huffs out a laugh and turns around, leans up on his toes to look into the cupboards above the counters for food. From where Dean is sitting, this gives him a fucking _fantastic_ view of Cas’ body. Of all the lithe muscles in his back, the soft curve of his ass and the pale expanses of all of that _skin_.

Skin that Dean is allowed to touch, he realises, and quickly stands and gets to it.

“Hey!” Cas exclaims when Dean curls a hand around either side of Cas’ hips. He turns in Dean’s arms, and Dean goes with the movement and wraps his arms around Cas’ waist instead, feeling warm skin underneath his palms and smiling brightly. Cas arches an eyebrow, smiling too. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dean’s grin slips into a smirk. “Well, I was kinda hoping I’d get to do you.”

Cas snorts. “Funny,” he responds sarcastically, but it’s hard for Dean to care when Cas’ arms are winding around his neck.

“I thought so,” Dean murmurs, leaning forwards to kiss Cas, to lick his way through those pink lips and curl their tongues around each other.

Dean takes an unconscious step forwards, pushing Cas back against the counter with his hips, swallowing the moan Cas makes when their groins push together. He starts rolling his hips, one hand still tightly gripped around Cas’ waist, the other moving up to Cas jaw and stroking a thumb there. They keep like this for an insurmountable period of time, and it’s only when Dean’s dick gets too hard for him to ignore any longer, when he feels Cas hard against his thigh too, that he wraps his hands around Cas’ thighs and lifts him onto the countertop.

Cas lets out a small squeak when this happens. “Dean!” he protests, but his legs fall open to let Dean stand between them, and Dean just laughs and nips at Cas’ jaw.

“My knees are still hurting from yesterday, baby,” he explains, the words pressing into Cas’ skin. “I want to get between those pretty thighs of yours without causing more damage to them, if that’s ok with you. I am an athlete, after all.”

Cas’ whimper sounds choked, and Dean takes that as both acquiescence and victory.

He curls his hands back around Cas’ waist, slips his tongue back into Cas’ mouth and feels Cas’ legs wrap around him in return. He smirks against Cas’ mouth, sees Cas’ head fall back with a _thunk_ against the wooden cabinet and takes the proffered pale skin of Cas’ neck like the gift that it is by sucking over the hickeys that are already there.

“Dean,” Cas breathes as he bucks his hips into the air, seeking friction that Dean won’t let him have. “Dean, _please_.”

Dean just chuckles, hooking a thumb in each side of Cas’ – _his_ , actually, he remembers with a smile – boxers. “So impatient,” he admonishes, pressing kisses down Cas’ chest until his mouth is hovering over one pretty, pink nipple, hard and fucking _delicious_ looking. “Gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t we?”

Cas’ groan rumbles through his chest, vibrating against Dean’s lips. “ _Dean_ ,” he tries to warn, but the way his chest is rapidly rising and falling tells Dean that he likes it more than he’ll admit right now. “Dean, touch me.”

Dean blows against Cas’ nipple, making it get even _harder_ and eliciting a whimper from Cas. He chances a look up at Cas’ face, sees that Cas is looking down at him, eyes wide and blue and bright, teeth caught on his bottom lip and a blush spread across his cheeks. It makes Dean’s cock twitch painfully hard, and he wants to make Cas moan as prettily as he _knows_ he can.

“I don’t think I will,” he mutters, eyes flicking back down to Cas’ chest. Cas lets out a sound of breathy frustration, and Dean just takes that as him getting exactly what he wants. “I think I’m gonna get you so hard that you’re _begging_ for my dick, baby. Not gonna touch you until I think you’ve moaned prettily enough, asked nicely enough for my cock in your ass.”

Dean punctuates his sentence by laying the flat of his tongue over the hard nub, and Cas fucking _loses_ it. His blunt nails claw into the skin of Dean’s back, raking marks that Dean will use as reminders of how fucking lucky he is. Words are tumbling out of his lips, nonsensical and breathy, reverence in his tone every time Dean catches Cas murmuring Dean’s name.

He decides to respond by getting rid of any coherence Cas has left in him, getting him quivering and shaking and _exactly_ how Dean likes him. He takes Cas’ nipple between his teeth, pressures down slightly and hears a hiss from Cas followed by a whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Honestly? Dean wasn’t planning on doing anything of the kind. He bites down harder, flicks his tongue against the nub between his teeth, feels Cas shake and shudder underneath the hands that Dean has splayed over Cas’ ribs. He keeps up a relentless pace, has Cas writhing within seconds, hands fisting in Dean’s hair and legs tightening convulsively around Dean’s waist.

He keeps it up for as long as he can take – could be minutes, could be hours, Dean is too lost to the sensation of _Cas_ to even notice – until his dick starts protesting too hard at its lack of attention and he has to pull off.

Cas lets out a sound of loss when he does, eyes opening from where they’d fallen shut. He looks down at Dean, colour high on his cheeks and hair a fucking _mess_ , and he whispers, “Please fuck me, Dean. I want you to fuck me so much.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, leaning up to press frenetic kisses to Cas’ lips. “Just like that.”

Cas takes the encouragement and runs with it, muttering a litany of _fuck me_ and _please, Dean_ and _need this so bad_ under his breath. Dean moans loudly at Cas’ words, and when he tries to pull his sweatpants and boxers down in one go he finds his hands are shaking. He manages it anyway, stepping out of them and kicking them somewhere unknown, wasting no time in getting Cas’ shorts off his thin hips, too. Cas has to lift his ass up to let Dean do this, and Dean’s mind rushes forward to what he’s going to get to do to that ass soon.

“Shit,” he breathes, throwing Cas’ boxers somewhere and curling his fingers around the backs of Cas’ thighs. He feels overwhelmed by what’s in front of him: Cas in his kitchen, laid out entirely naked for Dean, trusting with those wide, blue eyes and finally _Dean’s_ again, after all these years. He leans up and presses a hard kiss to the corner of Cas’ lips, and then pulls Cas’ thighs further apart. “Spread your legs for me, angel.”

Cas complies automatically, legs opening wider, ass edging forwards to give Dean an easier angle. Cas’ cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, pearling at the tip and if Dean wasn’t so focused on fucking Cas right about now, he’d be putting the head between his lips, tonguing the slit and tasting Cas in every way possible.

Dean slips three fingers into his mouth sucks on them until they’re wet enough to be ok. Cas eyes are locked on this movement, his dick twitching against his stomach and his tongue darting out to swipe at his lips. Dean takes the fingers out of his mouth and smirks in response, trailing his fingers over the cleft of Cas’ ass.

“Next time,” he promises, and puts two fingers in at once.

Cas is still loose from yesterday, still fucked open and able to take as much as Dean is willing to give. Dean groans at the feel around his fingers, cock twitching in eagerness. It’s not long before Cas is begging for a third, and Dean gives it easily, too close to the edge to really wait it out now.

He pushes in and out, dragging moans from Castiel’s chest and letting them reverberate around the room, the only sound Dean cares about, shitty Indie music totally forgotten. He crooks his fingers, angles them just right, and Cas jerks, a choked off whimper between his lips and nails digging so hard into Dean’s back he may actually draw blood.

“I’m ready,” Cas insists, and Dean drags his gaze away from where he’d been watching the push of his fingers in and out of Cas’ pretty hole to look Cas in the eyes. “Just fuck me already, Dean. Please.”

He adds the last word on as an afterthought, and Dean groans as he realises that was for his own sake, to keep Dean placated. To make sure that Dean’s dick was going to be in his ass sometime in the near future.

A thought hits Dean and he winces and curses his lack of forethought. “No condom,” he grits out, struggling not to just say _fuck it_ and do it anyway.

“I don’t care,” Cas replies between his teeth. “Just fuck me, it’s fine.”

And who is Dean to say no to that?

Dean groans, taking one hand away from Cas waist to line up his dick, the head nudging against Cas’ pretty, pink hole. The anticipation sits under his skin, a buzz that creeps into his veins and sets his never endings alight. He takes a second to breathe, to press a soft kiss to Cas’ shoulder, and then he’s pushing in, inch by inch.

Cas hisses at the feel, hands moving down to Dean’s waist to make him move faster, sink in deeper. Dean has no idea where Cas’ sudden strength has come from, because teenage Cas could barely lift a baseball bat, let alone pull a grown man further into him.

Then again, Cas had no reason to ever actually _want_ to pick up a baseball bat. This, though, he clearly kinda wants.

“Fuck,” Dean and Cas breath simultaneously when Dean is in fully. He takes another second to breathe, squeezing his eyes shut and momentarily cutting himself off from sensation so he doesn’t come before it’s even started.

“Move, please,” Cas continues, hands still on Dean’s waist so Dean knows he has no choice in the matter. Not that he wants to not comply anyway, but he’s pretty sure that if were mentally deficient and did decide to not do as such, Cas would just drag him into moving anyway.

So Dean starts rocking his hips forwards, preening under Cas’ whimpers and sucking more bruises into any skin that remains unmarked. There’s not much of it, to be honest, but enough that Dean gets to go to _town_ with lips and tongue and teeth. Cas is rolling his hips, too; meeting each of Dean’s thrusts in with a grind down of his own. Dean sets the pace, and it’s hard and unrelenting, fast and dizzying.

They move together seamlessly, Dean’s palms curved around Cas’ ribs, trailing up and down his sips, wrapping around his thighs and pulling him into certain thrusts. Dean knows exactly how to angle it to hit Cas’ prostate, knows where to position Cas hips and knows which of Cas’ moans means he’s got it.

This much hasn’t changed since they were teenagers, and Dean is infinitely glad that he doesn’t have to learn new moves for it all.

A period of time passes that Dean isn’t too aware of, too focused on the snap of his hips against Cas’ thighs, the feel of Cas, hot and tight and _perfect_ around his cock. Soon – or not soon, he doesn’t even know, barely even cares when he knows Cas is close, too – he’s letting his mouth rest on the underside of Cas’ jaw. His tongue darts out to lick the sweat that pools in Cas’ collarbone, and Cas moans loudly and rocks down harder and faster, more erratic.

“Please touch me, Dean,” he begs. “I’m close, Dean, _please_.”

Dean is far, far past teasing, so he takes one hand away from Cas’ thigh, wraps it around Cas’ dick and starts stroking to the same pace as his thrusts. Cas head falls back again, hard enough that it sounds like it hurts, and Dean would ask if he’s ok, but he’s pretty sure that he is from the way he mouth is parted around an O of pleasure.

It only takes Dean brushing his thumb over the tip of Cas’ cock once for Cas to come, and then it only takes Cas clenching around Dean’s dick for Dean to come, too. They shudder out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another as they ride it out, and it’s a few minutes before Dean comes down enough to have the presence of mind to pull out.

He moves away only to pick up a pair of boxers – the one’s he was wearing, not Cas – and wipes Cas’ stomach and the backs of his thighs with them. Then, he uses his hands on Cas’ hips to help him down, only letting him go after so they can redress marginally.

With Dean back in his sweatpants and Cas back in Dean’s boxers, Dean pulls Cas back to him, nuzzles at his jaw and presses sloppy, open mouthed kisses there. To begin with, Cas tries to push him away half heartedly, but eventually he gives in to the attention and offers his skin up like a prize.

“Move in with me,” Dean asks, because he just _has_ to.

He murmurs the words into Cas’ skin, hiding his face just in case he gets rejected here, because if that happens he’ll need to hide the humiliation that is sure to flood his face. He hears a small inhale from Cas, and then there are fingers on his jaw, leading his face around until they’re eye to eye, their foreheads pressed together.

“I would say this is fast but I think we both know that’s not true,” Cas says, smiling, and Dean can’t help but grin back, too. He waits for Cas’ answer, worry still in his veins and the way Cas isn’t just _saying_ his answer, but eventually he’s put out of his misery. “Yes, ok. My apartment’s never really been my home, anyway. I think if anywhere was going to be, it’d be somewhere that I could be with you.”

The only way Dean can respond to that is to kiss Cas, hard. He’s never been very good with words, but what he can do is kiss agreement into the indent of Cas’ lips, tell him with the reverent curve of his palms around Cas’ jaw that Cas is his home, too.

Tomorrow they’ll plan everything out. Tomorrow they’ll call all their friends and family, do interviews and go back to work. Tomorrow reality is allowed to hit them like a freight train, but they know they’ll be fine. They have each other now, for good. And after seven years of waiting, the realisation has Dean knowing he’s going to propose to Cas one day, and he’s going to spend every second of the rest of his life making sure he’s good enough.


End file.
